


9 Crimes

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: 9 Crimes [1]
Category: Fringe, Terminator (Movies), Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover, Drama, F/F, Fringe season 3, Post-Marionette, Romance, TSCC season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TSCC/Fringe crossover. Set during the third season of Fringe and a slightly AU third season of TSCC. Two women who've lost almost everything find each other in a bar. Sarah Connor/Olivia Dunham femslash. Mentions of Camerah and Polivia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9 Crimes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm playing a little fast and loose with timeframes, but both shows deal with time travel, so I plead creative license. Also, sorry for any formatting issues. I'm reposting my ff.net stuff and still learning the ropes here. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, including the title of this fic and the lyrics used blow. They come from a very awesome Damien Rice tune called 9 Crimes.

Leave me out with the waste  
This is not what I do  
It's the wrong kind of place  
To be cheating on you  
It's the wrong time  
She's pulling me through  
It's a small crime  
And I've got no excuse

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn't belong there. That was all Olivia Dunham could think as she sat amidst hoards of rowdy college kids fresh out of finals and ready to celebrate. At a table in the far left corner, a group clad in BU apparel was pushing shot after shot on a skinny kid who seemed primed to throw up at any moment. Not a terribly interesting sight, but better than looking to the far right. The MIT crowd had taken over that area. Between long drags of alcohol, they argued over who'd scored better on an advanced calc exam, and who was most likely to have sex that night. Peter's MIT shirt was still crumpled in a ball next to her dryer. The thought of it made Olivia pick up her drink again.

What it was she kept pouring down her throat, Olivia didn't know. It was hell going in, but she figured that if glass went to mouth enough times, the taste wouldn't matter anymore. If she was very, very lucky, nothing would matter that much anymore. She'd never stepped foot in this bar before tonight, for reasons that were glaringly obvious now that she was here. Skinny BU kid covered his mouth before stumbling from his chair and making an awkward run for the men's room, accompanied by loud fits of laughter from his companions.

Last night Olivia had gone to her normal bar of choice, the one by her apartment, where the servers actually bothered to card their patrons. The man pouring her drink was comfortably familiar. He'd served up her usual without having to be told what that was, and for a few moments Olivia had been able to return his friendly smile. It'd been good until he asked why Peter wasn't with her, said how nice it was to see them together finally. He'd been waiting for that one, he said. They made a great couple, he said. The blonde had downed her drink quickly, not staying for the second that was offered.

Of course he would've gone there with her, of course the barkeep would've known they were seeing each other. Everyone else sure did. Walter must've been thrilled when he found out, Astrid too. They must've thought that Peter and the other Olivia were a great couple, just as the bartender had. Maybe even cute. Everyone could've thought they were cute together. Olivia left her usual bar last night in much the same condition as the kid from BU, fighting desperately not to puke.

The glass went back to her lips, a reflex. This wasn't her kind of place, hadn't been even when she was young enough to be here without feeling conspicuous. But the apartment held no solace either. Just a long list of half-completed tasks, more failed attempts at purging the other Olivia from her life.

Still, the hand that wasn't holding the glass drifted towards her purse. Those walls were hell, but their torments were at least familiar to her now, and Olivia hadn't counted on how hard it'd be to share space with normal, happy people. Happy, albeit drunk and immature. Happy never used to make her this depressed. She was reaching for the money that would clear her tab and allow her to get out of here when the brunette in the leather jacket walked in.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah hadn't liked this place when she passed it on the street, and the up-close view did nothing to raise her opinion. But it came down to a choice between an empty warehouse shared with her son, and a few highly excitable computer geeks, or here. Twenty-plus years factoring in time travel since she could enter an establishment like this without feeling ridiculous, but here had booze, and that was a big deal. The bigger deal was what this bar lacked, what she wouldn't have to face if she stayed for a drink a three.

It was Cameron's fault she'd had to find an escape route, that she needed to run again. Goddamn machines were always making her run. The Tin Miss was little more than a coltan mannequin now, but still she'd managed to back Sarah into a corner. Of course, corners weren't always bad, not when one or the other of them wound up pressed against a wall, but that hadn't happened for a long while now. Ever since the basement of Zeiracorp, all Sarah's corners had been of the metaphorical variety. Translation: the bad kind.

She could've lost both of them that day, the cyborg and her son. Sarah had no illusions about what a close thing it'd been. He'd looked at her, called for her, begged her with his words as well as his eyes. A second's more hesitation and he would've been gone the same as Weaver. Same as Cameron.

"I can't," he'd said once the ball of electricity had disappeared, as if there was still a choice. He'd sounded hollow, gutted. And when Sarah told him that she knew, that he'd done the right thing, she'd said it in much the same tone. John didn't notice. Of course he didn't. Sarah barely needed to hide the truth of her and Cameron's relationship, whatever that'd been.. The notion that his mom was fucking his cyborg bodyguard was so far off John's radar screen that there'd been little need for secrecy.

Sarah didn't know what scared her more, the knowledge of how close she'd come to losing John too, or the fact that she hadn't physically yanked him out of that blue circle of light. In what felt like another life, she'd spoken to Cameron about opening her hands, stepping back, trusting John to make the hard choices. She'd picked a hell of a time to do it, and her own choice at that moment still haunted her. Had she left it up to him because he needed to be John Connor and make the important decisions alone, or because some small, terrible part of her hoped that he'd take the risk, find Cameron, bring her back? Sarah wanted to dismiss the second possibility out of hand, but there was no denying that amidst the overwhelming relief she'd felt when John stayed behind, there was a twinge of pain that couldn't be attributed to seeing Cameron's farewell message scrolling over the monitor.

It wasn't as though it hadn't occurred to her, dragging him out of the sphere of electricity. Not doing so had cost her dearly. It'd also cost her not to go in his place, chase after Cameron herself. But there was Ellison. Savannah. Kaliba. There was work to do here, and the future was John Connor's domain, not hers. And John Conner had made his call, behaving like the man in his father's stories. He'd chosen the future of all over that of one machine, regardless of his feelings for her. In the face of that courage, Sarah could hardly justify tagging along with Weaver, no matter how much part of her might want to. And, as she kept telling herself, Cameron had made her own choice, wouldn't have done what she did if she wasn't certain it was in John's best interest. Sarah reminded herself of that a lot, trying to make it be enough to erase the hurt, the betrayal, the emptiness.

Right or wrong, she and John had made their choices. Sarah was living with hers, even if she had to indulge in a little extra whiskey now and then in order to do that, but John wasn't making things any easier. They talked of Kaliba, Skynet, what was necessary, but beyond that… It wasn't just grief, as Sarah originally thought. After a few weeks of cold shoulders, monosyllabic replies to any question not pertaining to the mission, and one especially bad argument where too many things were said she learned the truth. John was faring even worse than her when it came to accepting the decision he'd made. He didn't want it on his shoulders. He wished that Sarah had held him back, kept him away from the machine that'd stolen Cameron away. Because then it wouldn't have been his call at all, and he could've blamed Sarah for the loss, the pain.

During that fight, when he declared his love for Cameron, Sarah hadn't been surprised by the confirmation of what she'd tried to deny. She'd also tried hiding the bizarre, twisted mixture of pain and jealousy that those words caused. And, with a Herculean amount of effort, Sarah hadn't challenged his assertion. She'd never been sure of her own feelings about the cyborg, what right did she have to question his? All she knew was that Cameron was metal, and she was supposed to hate metal. Then, sometime after she'd bathed herself in radiation to save the machine, it was supposed to only be about sex. The hatred she should feel but didn't, the other things that she definitely shouldn't be feeling, Sarah wasn't ready to deal with any of it And by the time she was ready to start accepting the truth, Cameron was gone

So Sarah did with the pain and anger the same thing she'd done with all the other feelings that the machine had stirred in her. She ignored them whenever possible and focused on the job at hand. John seemed to have adapted the same philosophy. He took on a more active role when it came to planning the destruction of Skynet, but outside of that showed little interest in speaking to her. If there was an upside to this lack of communication, it lay in the fact that Sarah was rarely forced to hear about her son's apparent love for Cameron. When it was mentioned, John must've assumed that the look on her face was derision or disbelief at the idea that he could love a machine. Sarah let him think what he wanted. She'd square off unarmed against a hundred terminators before she admitted to sleeping with and possibly loving the cyborg that John had no doubt thought about sleeping with, and possibly loved.

If John suspected anything at all, it would be because of the body. She'd capitulated too easily when he argued that they couldn't burn it yet. For all the rationality John had shown in that basement, he wouldn't hear of the endo being destroyed, and Sarah, knowing damn well how weak it was, hadn't done much in the way of debating him. So for months now they'd been stowing a metal body that was useless, even if the chip did fall into their hands again. Sarah couldn't pretend to understand John's explanation of how Cameron's fuel cell kept the torn, ragged flesh from deteriorating any further, but she got the basics. There'd be no rotting, and no regeneration either. Cameron's body was what it was, and every day they kept it added exponential amounts of risk to an already precarious situation.

If John questioned her lack of resistance, she assumed he put it down to deference for his feelings. Which wasn't untrue. It was just that his feelings weren't the only ones she was taking into account.

But Sarah could only justify her cowardice for so long, and recently she'd been hinting that the waiting period was coming to an end. She doubted it was coincidence that John began corresponding with the MIT students around that time.

The verbal grudge matches that should've been fought over Cameron's body were more than made up for when John spoke of dangling that body in front of them as a recruitment tool. Three computer buffs, best and brightest among the best and brightest. John got their attention by demonstrating his hacking skills, and held onto it with tales of advanced technology and destruction that kept the students glued to their computers. Sarah was livid when she found out what he'd been doing.

"You have to trust me, Mom. This is the right thing to do. We need programmers-"

"No. We need soldiers."

"Yeah. Soldiers and techies. Like it or not this is a war based on tech, brought on by tech. Think about it. What's a soldier going to know about programming time displacement equipment? No time travel, no Kyle Reese. No Kyle Reese, and you're dead. It's not just me, Mom. You die, they win."

She hated it when he used her own words against her.. "These people worship technology, progress, the next big upgrade. And you want to give them access to the greatest, most destructive technology ever created. It's too risky."

"How many times are we going to have this conversation? Everything we do is a risk. Everything. We won't win if we don't take chances, and we sure as hell won't win if our 'resistance' is us, Ellison, and a traumatized six-year-old." A pause then, long and heavy. "I stayed here because I had to. That's what I'm supposed to do, right, be here to fight Skynet? Because if fighting means sitting here spinning wheels and talking about risk then…"

"Then?" Sarah prompted, unsure she wanted to hear the answer. 

"Then I made a mistake. A bad one."

Sarah had nothing to say after that. No counterargument, nothing better in the way of a plan. So she was left with nagging reservations, and Ellison was left with Savannah as the Connors and what remained of Cameron made the drive to Boston to rendezvous with John's could-be recruits.

The students viewed Cameron's endoskeleton with a healthy amount of fear, which Sarah more than approved of. But she saw something else on their faces too. The same burning excitement she'd seen in Andy Goode's eyes, before Derek shut them permanently. And even after he'd learned the truth, Sarah had still caught glimpses of that same look on Miles Dyson's face.

It didn't matter to them that the being they were all likely to have wet dreams about was created by the entity that wanted to wipe out all traces of human existence. They saw the robotics and the rest was obliterated by Star Wars fantasies.

Able to do little more than hover and glare while John showed off the inner workings of Cameron's body, she tried to emulate her son's strength. It hurt him, treating Cameron like the higher-level version of a frog in a biology class. Sarah saw this, but knew she was the only one. The students were too caught up in the thrill of discovery to notice John's discomfort, and John was too caught up in his task to let that discomfort turn to anguish.

For Sarah, there was no refuge in the practicalities. The best she could do was load her weapon over and over, handling it with an ease that terrified the budding geniuses. Of course, that'd been the desired effect, but once John really got into talking tech gibberish with the group, nothing penetrated the haze, even a terrorist wielding a gun not six feet away from them.

Sarah had been thinking of escape from the moment the trio of whiz kids made their appearance. She stayed as long as she could, assuring herself that there was no imminent threat to John, and then she needed out. Cameron laid open, the near-ecstasy that caused in John's new associates, it was too much.

She'd been ready to make her exit when John bent down and his shirt rode up. Where there should've been a gun under that material, there was nothing. "John."

He glared. So did she. The battle of wills lasted all of five seconds before John gave up, meeting her in the shadows and speaking as quietly as possible. "You shouldn't have done that. I'm supposed to lead these guys someday and you-"

"You want to talk to me about undermining your authority? Fine. First, talk to me about being unarmed. In a place we don't know, with people we don't know." Sarah kept her voice low, but did nothing to hide the anger permeating it.

"I need them to trust me, Mom. Doesn't work so well if I'm waving a pistol in their faces."

"Trust is earned. And you didn't seem to have a problem when I was the one waving the gun."

"Would it have mattered if I did? Anyway, now they're too scared of you to try anything."

"I see. So your great leadership strategy is to play good cop/bad cop with your mother."

"Mom-"

Cutting him off with a shake of the head and another long look, Sarah removed her gun, handing it to him butt-first. "You bring a gun. Always. And you make sure these people know that we know where they live. If they plan on leaving this building with a Skynet souvenir-"

"They're not…you're leaving?"

"I'm leaving," she confirmed relinquishing the keys to the SUV. "I can walk. Try not to hit anything."

"Walk where? Mom, you should take the gun."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. But I can't. And I can't be here to watch every move you make, because it won't always be that way. Search them. They leave here with nothing, they say nothing about what went on here. Straight back to the hotel when you're done, I'll meet you there later."

And now here she was, packed into a relatively small area with a bunch of drunken, unfamiliar people. Without a gun. As she stepped further into the swarm of humanity, Sarah visualized Cameron's reaction, were she awake to comment on the situation. The Tin Miss would throw her version of a fit, showing as much anger and frustration as she was capable. Side-stepping a tall kid bearing a tray of shots Sarah pictured John's name on that screen at Zeiracorp. John's, not hers. And despite the fact that she'd been the one who insisted on secrecy, insisted on all the rules and barriers of their relationship, Sarah got a cruel jolt of pleasure from imagining Cameron's distress. But Cameron wasn't capable of distress or any other reaction. She was just skin and metal now, without any higher functions. John would have to haul her onto a dolly and wheel her back to the vehicle. It was a painful thought, but satisfying as well. Painful because of what Cameron had been reduced to, satisfying because part of her relished the idea of John doing the heavy lifting alone. Punishment, for not carrying a weapon.

Sarah was pondering the notion that she really was a horrible mother when she spotted the blonde at the end of the bar. A moment's consideration and Sarah had made her decision, ignoring the twinge of apprehension and something else as she crossed the room.

"You mind?" she questioned after a perfunctory hello. The spot Sarah meant to take would still leave an empty barstool between them, but she asked anyway. When everyone else was lumped together in one group or another, with the blonde surrounded by a bubble of empty space, she felt it only right to get approval. Even if the other woman had irked Sarah by keeping her from the perfect vantage point, the spot from which all exits and potential danger zones were visible.

"Not at all."

Nodding an acknowledgement, Sarah settled down (as much as she ever did that), ordering the drink she'd wanted since leaving L.A. the day before. Between sips of tequila, she sized the other woman up, telling herself it was the same as always, the same as she did with almost everyone that came within her sightline. Unlike almost everyone, this woman caught Sarah in the act, locking gazes with her before performing a similar assessment.

It should've bothered her, being subjected to her own treatment. But Sarah felt no unease when she met those green eyes. Maybe because of the reflection she saw there. A shared eye color didn't cover it, nor the fact that the blonde was the only one here even close to Sarah's age. The eyes, the bearing, everything about her spoke of heaviness. Sarah doubted it was noticeable to the average passerby, but as someone who'd spent most of her life trying not to be crushed under the weight of her demons, Sarah had a way of seeing the signs in others.

Then the moment passed, eye contact was broken as they turned back to their drinks. Sarah was aware of the blonde without feeling threatened. She felt the other woman's awareness of her, without being troubled by it. She'd made enough people fear her over the years, she knew when someone was on edge in her presence. The other woman wasn't nervous exactly, and neither was Sarah. But there was a charge of something in their semi-secluded area, that part couldn't be denied. Sarah, of course, did her level-best to ignore it.

It was Olivia who broke the stalemate, though she didn't do so immediately. Discussions with strangers weren't her style, but the newcomer sparked her interest, enough that she'd chosen to stay and finish her drink. She knew she was taking a risk, the other woman had an air of guardedness that Olivia recognized in herself. But, as Walter had already established, there wasn't much that scared her at this point, especially after the events of the last few months. "Sorry if I'm intruding. I just couldn't help noticing that one of these things is not like the other."

Sarah might've brushed her off if not for the girl that'd just exited the women's bathroom near the back of the bar. The resemblance to Cameron wasn't stunning, but the body type and hair color were similar enough that Sarah needed the excuse to look away, to think different thoughts. "Don't you mean two?" she asked, offering her companion another nod. Suddenly, she liked looking at this woman. Sarah might see elements of her own reflection there, but there was nothing to remind her of Cameron. At the moment, that was all the reason she needed to give the blonde her attention.

"Guess I do," Olivia replied, returning the nod. "Olivia."

"Sarah."

The pause before Sarah's reply would've been imperceptible to someone who hadn't spent a good portion of her adult life interrogating suspects. "Sarah. Nice to meet you."

"Olivia. Same to you. I'm here on business, needed a break. If there's a better place closer to my hotel, I didn't find it. What's your excuse?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Same as yours, more or less. Needed a change of scenery."

"And this was the best you could find?"

The wry smile directed her way was a bit forced, but not fake. Olivia returned it in what she imagined to be a very similar fashion. Quicker with a smile. That's what Peter said when he talked about the differences between her and her doppelganger. Quicker with a smile. Less intense, So Olivia tried for a smile, tried for less intensity, hating herself a little bit for making the effort. "So. What's the business that drove you to Boston's little slice of hell?"

She couldn't be a waitress tonight. In another bar, next to Carl Greenway, she'd been a one-time computer student. Cameron had also been in the bar that night. In a short skirt and a leopard print top. Bent over a pool table. Not long after that, they'd had sex for the first time. Sarah tried convincing herself it was coincidental, then tried harder not to think of Cameron at all. "I work with computers."

"Sounds interesting."

"I hate it." That earned her a genuine laugh, something that made Sarah feel unaccountably proud of herself, even as she tried not to notice the tiny lines that started at Olivia's nose and ended at her lips. They'd been invisible up to now, until the blonde gave a real smile. Cameron had those same lines, also invisible if she wasn't smiling. Cameron hadn't smiled often enough, and Olivia seemed like she didn't have that many reasons to smile herself. "So Olivia. What do you do when you're not checking out the scenery in this little slice of hell?"

Olivia's smile faltered, just for a moment. She sipped her drink, an easy cover tactic. She didn't want to be Special Agent Dunham tonight. She'd told Peter before how people reacted once they knew of her occupation. The top two choices seemed to be a repressed sort of panic, like they suddenly expected to be arrested, or endless questions about things like how many people she'd killed, or the technical accuracy of The Silence of the Lambs. She didn't know Sarah, but she was willing to bet that the results wouldn't be good if honesty came into play. Besides, she was sick of being Agent Dunham, sick of the endless looks from her colleagues, different mixtures of pity and discomfort. Mostly, she was sick of the fact that Peter was one of the only people who knew her well enough to use her first name.

"I thought she was you, Olivia."

Must not have known her that well after all.

"Olivia?"

God. There was concern in that voice, and it should've irritated her because everyone was concerned for her lately. Instead of frustration, Olivia felt a kind of wonder at how good her name sounded coming from Sarah's lips. Clearly she'd had too much to drink.

"I work in a lab," she said, barely qualifying it as a lie. She spent more time in the Harvard lab than she did at headquarters. "Science stuff." Fortunately, her need to abandon Special Agent Dunham had been strong enough that she'd worn khakis and blouse instead of the usual power suit. That would've given away the game.

"Science stuff," Sarah repeated, right eyebrow lifting higher than her left..

Interesting. Not many people would've called her on that, though Sarah hadn't actually accused her of dishonesty. Olivia was good at telling stories, told them to Ella every time her niece stayed the night. Before that, she'd told them to Rachel, to distract her sister from the sounds of their mother getting beat to hell in the next room. Sarah was good at telling stories too. Olivia sensed she'd had a lot of practice.

"Interesting science stuff?" Sarah asked. Scientists were civilians. Civilians didn't know their exits the way this woman did.

"Understatement, but yes." Olivia paused, considering. "I actually needed a bigger change of scenery than just this bar. Just got back from vacation." Good a way as any to describe being trapped in an alternate reality.

"Vacations are good. Rest, relaxation."

"Yeah."

"Doesn't seem like you got much of that," Sarah observed, noting the bags under Olivia's eyes.

"Doesn't seem like you ever do," Olivia countered, keeping her tone light. It was nice talking to Sarah. Even if they were playing a potentially dangerous game with rules that weren't quite defined.

Shrugging, Sarah brought her glass to her lips for the first time since their conversation started. The desire to drink had become far less urgent. "The Sandman and I don't like each other very much."

"You ever see a doctor about that, try some pills?"

"Don't like pills. Don't like doctors. Dreamt I went to a sleep clinic once," Sarah added, not sure why she was doing it. "Didn't help."

"You dreamt about sleeping?"

"Weird, isn't it?"

"I've seen weirder. And I'm not too fond of drugs myself." Walter and Bell's Cortexiphan trials. Being groomed to save the world when she was still a child. Part of her would always hate Walter for that, maybe more than Bell because she hadn't been forced to hear the other man's rationalizations time after time. Olivia picked up her drink again.

The conversation tapered off after that. A few more silently acknowledged lies were exchanged, a few more small bits of truth, and then silence fell between them. It was a different kind of quiet than the one that followed their initial meeting though. Comfortable, not fraught with an unnamable tension. They finished their drinks at the same time, leaving Olivia with a choice she didn't want to make. She'd been sitting here too long. She had work in the morning, always assuming Broyles didn't pull one of his patented middle of the night call-ins. She couldn't stay, but this place she'd been so eager to leave was suddenly much more appealing. And that scared her almost as much as the prospect of returning to her empty, tainted apartment.

In an effort to buy time, Olivia retreated to the bathroom after getting assurances from Sarah that her seat would still be there when she returned. Then she was staring at herself in the mirror, wondering at how desperate and lonely she must've become. There hadn't been another woman in her life since college, and until tonight she'd been fine with that. Briefly, she considered shooting her own reflection

"You keep your backup gun in your purse, don't you? I keep mine in my jacket."

She should've learned something from almost getting killed having to fumble for a weapon. But Olivia couldn't stand the thought of taking up any of her habits, even the good ones. Foolish and irrational yes, but so were the thoughts she was having about her new drinking buddy.

When Olivia returned, she found that said drinking buddy hadn't kept her end of the bargain. "Thought you were my keeping seat safe," she said, eyebrows raised.

Sarah, who'd chosen to steal the barstool she'd been charged with protecting, brought a fresh drink to her lips and hoped her reaction to that last word hadn't been blatantly obvious. "What better way to do than to keep it occupied? Besides, I got rid of the Russian Studies major with the acne problem who wanted to buy your next drink."

"Always did hate Tolstoy. Dare I ask how you got rid of him?" Olivia wondered about that flash she'd seen in the other woman's eyes, the momentary tensing of the shoulders. She didn't ask though. The rules they'd followed tonight weren't clearly laid out, but questioning that flash of emotion still would've gone against them. That much Olivia did know.

Suddenly the bartender was there, setting another glass next to Sarah.

"I bought your next drink," she explained. "Peace offering?"

To hell with it. Putting aside her doubts the same way she'd put aside her curiosity all night, Olivia set her purse on the empty stool that'd separated them, taking a place next to Sarah. She pretended not to notice the thrill of excitement that came when her knee brushed against Sarah's thigh.  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Neither of them quite knew how they'd gotten here. Olivia was reminded of being in John Scott's memories, seeing scenes of herself from the outside. She watched herself leaving the bar with Sarah, heard herself offering a ride as if from a distance. She rationalized it the best she could. She wished to do the other woman a favor, that was all. When that failed, she admitted it was just another excuse to put off the return to her apartment. But that didn't pan out either, because suddenly she was back there, only not alone this time. That part really was like jumping around in John's head. There was a gap between asking if Sarah needed a lift to her hotel and having that morph into asking this near-stranger to come home with her. Olivia attributed the lack of recollection to a defense mechanism within her own mind and left it there.

Sarah had no excuse for this; all she had were reasons why it was a bad idea. She shouldn't have caved, she was stronger than that. Except lately she wasn't. She no longer wanted to kill Ellison. She quietly relished the occasional hug from Savannah. And most importantly, she had John. She'd told Cameron during a moment of weakness about how she was going to lose him. It could've happened at Zeiracorp, her fears could be a reality now. But she hadn't lost him, he'd stayed with her. Yet somehow she'd never felt more alone.

She couldn't do this, couldn't be here. Loneliness wouldn't justify it, and there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make it okay. She'd had a few minutes on the ride to this place she didn't know, with this person she didn't know, to think things over. The final conclusion being that her behavior was just as bad, if not worse than John's. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings, waiting for Olivia to face her. Waiting to bail on this situation that shouldn't have come about in the first place.

"Sorry about the mess," said Olivia." I haven't gotten caught up on the cleaning since my…" She'd been looking the other way, setting her purse down and cursing the state of her home. The contents of her kitchen drawers and most of her dishware were scattered all over the counters. She had rearranged things while Olivia was gone. Subtle changes, but noticeable. An inability to find her measuring cups had led to a minor meltdown. Then, before she could finish the kitchen, Olivia noticed that the small collection of books she never had time to read was now arranged by title instead of author. And then while she was re-shelving her books, she'd come across picture albums that'd been rifled through. There were photos of Ella and Rachel that had obviously seen a lot of handling since her departure. And that was when Olivia left, too overwhelmed to be here anymore.

And now she was back, and she could see that Sarah meant to leave, and somehow the pain of that overwhelmed her more than any of the things that had driven her away to begin with. She saw the woman grasping for words, saw the apology that would come next. This probably isn't a good idea, we don't know each other. I should go. It was all there, she'd just have to wait a few more seconds to hear it. But she didn't want to. She couldn't. It was all true and rational and Olivia had no argument against it, but she still could not bear to hear it.

Before Sarah could start talking her way out, Olivia was moving. Sarah recognized the slow, cautious gait, the wariness of it. It was the way you moved when you were afraid of spooking an animal that was caught between fight or flight. A lot of people had approached Sarah that way over the years, but few of them pulled it off with Olivia's level of calmness. The only thing that gave her away was the eyes, and Sarah couldn't hold that against her. She wouldn't have recognized the pain, the barely-controlled desperation, if she hadn't seen it in the mirror a thousand times. The door was only a few steps away. She could still retreat, if there wasn't some invisible wall blocking her, keeping her rooted to the spot.

Slow movement aside, Olivia didn't give herself time to question, to think about the consequences of what she was doing. And when she was close enough, when she reached out to cup Sarah's cheek, she tried damn hard not to think of Peter with his hand on her face and a look in his eyes that left no doubt about his feelings.

"Peter. I'm scared."

"Don't be."

Then he'd leaned in, like Olivia was doing now. But this time Olivia didn't pull back, and she didn't think about how it took two years to kiss Peter, or how she was brushing lips with a woman she'd met less than two hours ago. She was scared, like before, but the reasons were different. She'd been scared of Peter getting too far in. Tonight, she was afraid of Sarah walking out.

Sarah didn't pull away. Instead she went still, fighting the urge to go rigid. She'd reacted in much the same way when Cameron first kissed her. This experience wasn't altogether different. Olivia's lips were soft against hers, hesitant. Yet Sarah could feel the desire, the urgency that no amount of gentle probing could mask. She was still deciding if she could risk giving in to that again when Olivia broke contact.

Unsure whether the tension in Sarah's frame meant bad things or good, Olivia pulled back, just a little. The hand on Sarah's cheek slid down to her neck, tangling in soft, messy locks Her other hand traced the length of a leather-clad arm.

"Don't go." She was past the point of caring how weak she sounded, and completely incapable of anything more eloquent than what she'd just said. Emotional speeches weren't her strong suit, and whatever skills she had in that domain had been used up on Peter. First when she asked him to come back and be with her, then later, when she said she no longer wanted to be with him. She'd given Peter everything, only to come back and find it destroyed by her, the other Olivia.

She had nothing left anymore. Just this. Just this woman who, impossibly, was just as damaged as Olivia herself. Her certainty of the wounds Sarah had suffered went beyond instincts or Bureau training. She didn't know where the knowledge came from, nor did she particularly care. The only thing she cared about right then was keeping the other woman here. With her.

The words, the tone, the feeling of another person so close, asking so much, yet offering that much in return. Whatever caused it to happen, the last of Sarah's defenses crumbled to nothingness. When her knees threatened to give, Sarah didn't even try to blame it on the drinks. The weight she'd been carrying since Kyle died, the one that became impossibly harder to bear since Cameron left, all of it disappeared, leaving Sarah weak with relief.

Olivia steadied her, cradling the head that was suddenly pressed into her shoulder. She felt the lone tremor that ran through Sarah's body, than the other woman straightened up and Olivia experienced her own surge of relief as warm lips crashed into hers.

Olivia was taller than Sarah. Taller than Cameron. Sarah found that she didn't mind the height difference. The uncertainty of that first kiss was gone, replaced by pure need. Sarah worked to get the other woman out of her long coat while her tongue worked its way into Olivia's mouth. The overcoat hit the floor, along with Sarah's favorite leather jacket. Removing the extra material allowed Sarah to explore the blonde properly and confirm what she'd already suspected. The long hair might be soft and silky, but Olivia's body was lean, strong. Sarah felt the muscles of Olivia's torso harden under her touch and it was enough to make her shudder again.

"Sorry about the mess," Olivia repeated between a series of quick, smaller kisses. She didn't know where that'd come from. Another defense mechanism maybe. She had what she wanted, but the victory and the desire were tempered by an equal amount of fear. Still, when she felt Sarah's hands sliding ever so lightly over her silk blouse it brought out her own need to touch. Her long fingers grasped and tugged until Sarah's shirt pulled free of her jeans and at last she could touch her skin.

Sarah liked the tingle flitting up and down her spine as Olivia's fingers traced circles above the waistline of her jeans. She moved her attention to Olivia's neck, trailing kisses until she reached the pulse point there. She smirked a little as she lavished attention on the soft flesh. If Olivia only knew about some of the people she'd been with, some of the places. Sarah moved on, enjoying the blonde's gasp at the loss of contact. Then her mouth was at Olivia's ear, nibbling gently at the lobe before murmuring her question. "You got a bed?"

It took a moment for Olivia to reply, and even then her answer was barely more than a nod. Having Sarah's lips so close, breathing inquires in a voice that was so much lower than normal… It was almost as exciting having those lips pressed against her ear as it was to feel the other woman's breasts pressing against hers. Almost. "Yeah," Olivia replied finally. Breathlessly. "Got a bed."

Sarah gave her own minute nod before swirling her tongue against the blonde's lobe. "We're good then."

Olivia bit her lip to stay silent. The tone of that proclamation was as much a caress as anything Sarah's hands were doing, and it spurred her on. Instead of worrying her lip some more, Olivia covered her mouth with Sarah's. The taste was a heady combination of desire and tequila, and it threatened to obliterate what remained of Olivia's self control.

Somewhere along the way Sarah got lost in Olivia's sighs. Her caresses. So much so that she didn't protest when Olivia spun her 180 degrees. She merely wrapped her arms around that strong, steady frame and held tight. Eyes closed, she let herself be walked backwards, further into the unfamiliar space. She wasn't thinking about the level of trust that took, the risk. Olivia had her hands on Sarah's hips, her thumbs drawing small circles as she guided the other woman's movements. The kisses continued, more heated, more desperate, and for once in her life, Sarah was grateful at be without a gun. The blonde's left hand drifted to the small of her back, then lower. No gun, no awkward questions. No stopping. Sarah didn't want to stop. Didn't even miss the weight of the metal at her back, the way she had all through the night.

They managed to remove their shoes without separating before entering the bedroom, making Sarah grateful that she'd worn the zippered boots tonight. Olivia was just grateful that they didn't have to pass her little laundry nook. She doubted Sarah would notice Peter's shirt lying there, and if she did, she wouldn't break the rules by asking questions. But Olivia would notice, and she really, really didn't want to.

Oh. And the gun. She was grateful the gun stayed in her purse when she was off-duty. Scientists didn't generally carry guns.

Sarah opened her eyes when the back of her knees hit something solid. Olivia's bedroom would've been immaculate if not for the giant pile of clothes by the closet. Turning her head slightly, Sarah noted the shopping bags littering the bed she'd been so eager to reach. "Win a game show or something?" she asked, mouth curved in a smirk.

Olivia carelessly swept aside the purchases, causing a few paycheck's worth of new clothes to spill to the floor. "Did some shopping after my vacation," she explained, gently pushing Sarah backward. The bedding was new. She'd washed it as often as her old clothing, and it still hadn't been enough. It had still made her skin burn and tied her stomach in knots, wearing the things her doppelganger had worn, sleeping in the bed that felt so contaminated. Olivia's skin burned now, too, but for an entirely different reason. And the fluttering in her stomach was far from unpleasant this time.

Separating as little as possible, Olivia and Sarah continued their explorations with lips and hands. The issue of who would be on top led to a brief, playful tussle that made both of them chuckle, Figuring that this was the other woman's home, Sarah let Olivia come away the victor, let the blonde cradle her head as she laid it against the pillows.

Lips still tingling from their latest kiss, Olivia sat up long enough to remove her shirt and bra, revealing firm breasts and hardened nipples. Then she repeated the process on Sarah. Considering how long it'd been since she'd done it for someone else, she was pretty proud of herself for exposing Sarah's upper body as quickly as she did. Then she was trying not to shiver as Sarah's hands began a thorough mapping of her chest.

It'd been over ten years since Olivia felt another woman's touch on her body. She'd been a freshman at Northwestern when it happened. That was the same year a lunatic named Sarah Connor blew Cyberdyne Systems into hell. Olivia had heard the news reports, but the bombing was in L.A, and Olivia was in Illinois, dealing with a first love as well as the realization that she had some tendencies that hadn't been previously acknowledged. While Sarah Connor's picture was all over the airwaves, Olivia had been focused on keeping a scholarship a job, and her girlfriend. She'd managed the first two but not the third. And because of all that, she'd never actually seen the images of Sarah that were broadcast all over the country.

Had her life not turned into such an insane mess, Olivia still would've recognized the woman in her bed as a wanted terrorist. The arrest, the jail riot, the escape. These things had brought Sarah Connor back into the spotlight. But while all that was happening, Olivia Dunham was in another universe. One where Sarah died of cancer on December 4th, 2005.

But Olivia didn't know who she was with, and Sarah didn't know Olivia. All she knew was that the blonde was strong and warm and gentle. It'd been too long since Sarah had any of that, and it was amazing to feel it again. Until Olivia stilled Sarah's hands, clasping her wrists and bringing them up to rest on the pillow at either side of her head. The grip wasn't tight, there was nothing remotely threatening about it. Olivia released her hold almost immediately, moving on to other areas. And still, Sarah tensed. Cameron had trapped her hands like that during their first time together, eliciting lust and anxiety in almost equal parts. And, though Cameron was the reason for everything happening in this room, Sarah didn't want the cyborg here. Not even in her thoughts. A losing battle, but one she intended to fight.

It took an absurd amount of willpower, what Sarah did next. Olivia was massaging her left breast, kissing a line of fire down her stomach. The blonde's free hand was at the clasp of Sarah's jeans. Before she could remove those as well, Sarah ran her hand through long, silky hair, marveling again at the softness of it. Olivia's tongue darted out as she locked eyes with Sarah. Watching the other woman wet her lips almost broke her resolve. Almost.

"No," Sarah said quietly. Then, seeing the look on Olivia's face, Sarah rushed to reassure her. "C'mere," she murmured. When the other woman tried moving up her body and in for a kiss, Sarah , placed her thumb against Olivia's lips, tenderly stroking from one side to the other.

"I just…" Sarah fumbled for words. The moisture from Olivia's lips was on her finger now, and it was causing a whole different kind of wetness, making it even harder to maintain a coherent thought. "I need it to be you first."

That sent a flush of color rushing to Olivia's cheeks. "I want you," she said, half declaration, half plea. Distantly, she thought about how those words hadn't left her mouth in over three years.

Sarah held on by a thread to her last shred of self-control, but it was a struggle. A lock of hair fell over Olivia's eyes and Sarah brushed it aside with one hand. The other one tenderly stroked the area between Olivia's breasts. "I'm here," Sarah replied, still more than a little surprised by that. "Just…you first. Please."

The words broke something in Olivia. She didn't notice the tear sliding down her cheek until Sarah was pulling her close again, kissing it away.

"Hey," she murmured, suddenly completely unsure of herself. "You okay?"

Something else twisted inside her, but Olivia was able to stay any further tears. Everyone always asked that now. Everyone. And she always lied. But as much as she'd been deceptive about other things tonight, she couldn't lie about this. Any more than she could explain the tear, explain about John and Peter and the woman from the other side, and how all of it was threatening to crash in on her. She couldn't explain, but she couldn't lie either. "No," she admitted. Then, seeing Sarah about to pull back, Olivia took one of the other woman's hands, maneuvering until she had it where she wanted. "But please. Please don't stop."

Tailored slacks did nothing to hide the wetness Sarah felt against her hand, fueling the heat within her own body. "I haven't started yet," Sarah replied in a voice rough with desire

"So do something about that," Olivia said with a smirk.

Fuck it. She didn't want to do anything to harm the blonde, but restraint had its limits. One more nod of approval had Sarah rolling over until she was straddling the other woman. But before she could do anything more than that, Olivia's hands were back at the zipper of her jeans. "Thought we'd settled this," Sarah protested, capturing Olivia's wrist.

"We did. Me first." Her gaze dropped back to the zipper, fingers slowly sliding it down. "Right after you get rid of these."

"Rather get rid of yours." Words aside, Sarah rid herself of everything below the waist in record time. That record was broken a moment later when she did the same for Olivia. Seeing the tall blonde stretched naked across the bed was enough to halt Sarah's respiration. As soon as she remembered that breathing was an essential function, her fingers and mouth were everywhere. She couldn't get enough, couldn't do enough, couldn't decide where she wanted to touch and taste the most.

The moans and gasps coming from Olivia indicated that she was perfectly fine with their current speed. Still, Sarah forced herself to ease up. She wasn't racing the clock, stealing time while John and Derek were gone, while there wasn't a mission or a crisis. Tonight wouldn't be repeated, and she'd best make it last. More than that, she felt the need to make things good for Olivia. Sarah knew without asking that the other woman did this type of thing about as often as Sarah herself. Which meant Olivia needed this just as much as she did.

Sarah sat up and gave her a long, deep kiss, running her hand in an agonizingly slow trail from Olivia's neck down the length of her spine, finally coming to rest on her thigh. Seconds later her mouth followed the same route, eliciting a series of moans from the other woman.

Olivia couldn't tell where one tremble ended and the next began. Every bit of her was aflame as Sarah's mouth and fingers continued to roam. Earlier, she hadn't been able to think straight, hadn't been able to focus long enough to complete a single task. She was focused now, focused completely on what Sarah was doing to her. "Please," she whispered, without caring how many times she'd used that word tonight.

Sarah blew softly on the area near her belly button, enjoying Olivia's response. Then she slid back up, trailing kisses along the blonde's stomach and breasts before claiming her mouth again. At the same time she cupped the mound between Olivia's thighs.

Olivia groaned softly, rising off the mattress to get more of Sarah's hand on her. In her. Much as she'd wanted this, it still surprised her, how quickly her body reacted, how intense the feelings became. The pressure and the pleasure kept rising, the tension ratcheting up and up and up more until she thought she'd explode.. Then she did. She went still for a few endless moments, slipping over the edge with a long, keening moan before going limp in Sarah's arms

Sarah held her up, continued kissing and touching and pressing until she was sure all the tension was gone. Then she built it up again. She liked listening to Olivia, watching her reactions. Knowing for certain that they were pure human instinct, not the result of a database or a program. But for all that, for all her desire to keep Cameron away, the cyborg still plagued her. That second time, when Olivia clenched tight against her fingers, she also clenched desperately at the bedding. While she marveled over how beautiful Olivia looked when she came, Sarah was also remembering the glitch in Cameron's hand. While she held Olivia, helped her ride out the aftershocks, Sarah thought about Cameron, cursing the machine for not letting her have this one moment of peace.

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After, Olivia lay tangled in the blankets, resting on her side with Sarah positioned behind her. While Sarah drew lazy patterns across her back and dropped occasional kisses to her shoulders, Olivia reflected on how nice it was to be exhausted from something good, something that wasn't life-threatening. She drifted in and out for awhile, and she was about to doze again when Sarah murmured in her ear.

"Have a lot of accidents in that lab?"

Olivia blinked repeatedly, half-turning to face the other woman. "What?"

"The lab. Your job. The interesting science stuff. Dangerous too?"

Oh hell. She'd thought they were done with this. Wasn't fair to start another round this soon after being fucked senseless. "Car accident," she said, continuing the half-truth game. She had after all been thrown through her windshield last year.

Sarah chuckled in a way that wasn't happy. Seemed her bullshit excuse was even less original than she'd thought.

"What?" Olivia repeated, idly playing with the fingers resting on her stomach. Sarah's scar collection made her own look pitiful in comparison. From the look of most of them, proper medical treatment hadn't been an option.

"Nothing," Sarah replied, running her fingers through slightly damp hair.

Right. She'd thought so. "You look like you might've. had some fender-benders too."

Sarah gave a wry half-smirk. She'd set herself up for that one, but at least Olivia was giving her an out. "Only a few."

Shaking her head, Olivia shifted so she as facing the other woman full-on. Carefully, she traced the old wound on Sarah's shoulder. Car wrecks were all well and good but the blonde had seen and sustained her share of injuries over the years, and a stabbing was a stabbing, "I had a stepfather. Used to beat my mom."

"And you?" Sarah asked, not really a question.

"Sometimes," Olivia confirmed. "Only when she wasn't around, only when I got in the way of him touching my sister. Only in places my mother wouldn't see."

"Bastard."

"Yeah." Again, Olivia ran her thumb over the shoulder wound. "You have a stepfather too?"

"Could've had a stepfather, yeah."

Sighing at the non-answer, Olivia slipped her hand under the covers, rubbing circles on Sarah's stomach. The scar on her abdomen didn't look like fender-benders either. "Boyfriend?"

This time it was Sarah that sighed, shifting closer so their foreheads were touching. "Could've been a boyfriend," she replied, weariness creeping into her voice.

Well. That confirmed the rules for this round. Letting her hand go lower, Olivia found Sarah's leg, gently massaging. It looked like she had a bullet wound there, more recent than the others. "Little green men from outer space?"

Sarah chuckled at that, but her tone stayed the same when she answered. "Could've been that. Could've been killer robots from the future."

Mentally giving her points for creativity, Olivia kissed the corner of Sarah's mouth before rolling over again. Sarah resumed combing through her hair, and several minutes passed in silence. Then Sarah spoke up again.

"It's sexy, but you don't seem like the type."

Olivia thought for several seconds before realizing what Sarah meant. Her unexpected lover had pushed her hair to one side, exposing the tattoo at the back of Olivia's neck. The one they'd given her on the other side to make her think she was a different person. "I'm not," Olivia declared, unable to help the edge of bitterness that crept into her voice. "I'm having it removed."

And just like that it hit her again. What Peter and the other one had done in this bed. Telling herself that he couldn't have known did nothing. A near-stranger had noticed something odd about the tattoo. How many odd little slip-ups had Peter written off? How many mistakes would She have had to make before he realized something was wrong? How long would it have continued? Would he have started to suspect something on their honeymoon?

Sarah felt Olivia tense up, would've asked about it or apologized or done something if Olivia wasn't suddenly on top of her, kissing her silent. Sarah was wet from their earlier activities, and Olivia became aware of that as soon as the blonde slipped a leg between hers. Groaning, Sarah broke the kiss, instinctively pressing herself against Olivia's thigh.

"My turn," Olivia declared. That was followed by a low moan of approval as Olivia slipped a hand between Sarah's legs, reveling in the moist heat she found there. She kept the friction going with a slow, teasing grind of her thigh. Her mouth found its way to Sarah's nipple and she enjoyed the soft moan that escaped Sarah's lips. Lightly, her teeth grazed the hard nub. Sarah moaned a little louder. She repeated the action, harder this time. Sarah moaned again.

Sarah forced her head back harder against the pillows. Her fingers tightened in the sheets while her eyes squeezed shut. "You're killing me," she said, biting her bottom lip in a vain attempt to stifle the noises.

Olivia shook her head, letting her long hair drift back and forth across Sarah's torso. "Something tells me you can take it."

Sarah's response was a muffled curse from behind clenched teeth. Olivia smiled, lowering her head until her lips found the hard muscles of Sarah's stomach. One hand stretched up to stroke between Sarah's breasts while the other kept up the thrusting between her thighs. Olivia was vaguely surprised by her own power, her ability to make Sarah writhe beneath her. She found it intoxicating. Her life had been out of her control for months, but Sarah, Sarah was in her bed. Completely surrendering to her ministrations. All thoughts of Peter and the otherone vanished as she concentrated on returning the pleasure that Sarah had given her, showing the other woman that her trust had been justified.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Sarah whispered, fingers sliding through golden hair. She traced shapes on Olivia's scalp that matched the pattern Olivia's fingers drew on her inner thigh. Her free hand pounded the bed, the double assault of fingers and tongue threatening to undo her.

Sensing how close she was, Olivia redoubled her efforts, eyes glued to Sarah's face. "Let it go," she murmured. She wasn't just talking about the physical tension. Whatever brought Sarah into the bar, into her bed, Olivia wanted it gone. Forgotten, if only for a little while.

Soft, encouraging, little more than a whisper, Sarah barely heard Olivia's voice over her own sounds. She liked that voice. Quiet, but full of quiet emotion. Completely unlike Cameron's. Not that Sarah was thinking about the machine now. For once, she wasn't thinking about machines at all, or the end of the world. The closest thing she had to a coherent thought was that she wanted this to end, wanted release from the vise her body had become. She wanted to enjoy the pleasures of being human without worrying about the goddamn machines taking everything away.

"Come on. Come on Sarah. Just let go of it."

The coaxing combined with a particularly well-timed twist of the fingers put Sarah over the edge. She cried out and cursed some more, and Olivia chuckled and smiled and kept things going until Sarah reached down and stilled her hand. One time would've been enough, but Olivia was determined to even things out between them. Sarah fell asleep with strong arms around her, considering how nice it was to be fucked in the good, non-metaphorical way. The last thought she had before fading out was that she liked the thud of Olivia's heartbeat in her ear. It made her forget about the sound Cameron's boots made when the machine would walk past her room at night.

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The sleep was good, but not long. Sarah woke a few hours later, thankful it'd happened so quietly. No nightmares, no screams to wake the woman next to her. Instantly, there were thoughts of John, worry. Her eyes found a digital clock and Sarah sighed with relief. She'd snuck a text to him earlier (she'd been rather proud of herself when Savannah finally taught her how to do that), telling him she'd be back late. Whatever John thought she was doing, Sarah was pretty sure that the truth of it wasn't one of the possibilities he'd consider

He'd returned the text, assuring her he was fine. And still, Sarah slipped out of bed, not making a sound as she found her clothes, found the cell phone in her jeans pocket. Nothing there to raise an alarm. But if John was sitting alone in their hotel room with no more teaching to do, no more explanations to give, he was probably thinking of Cameron. Of what he'd had to do to her body. Which meant he was hurting. Which meant she needed to be around, even if that was the very last thing he wanted.

Sarah dressed quickly in the dark, years of practice making it second nature. She found her boots near the entrance to the bedroom, got those on as well. Her jacket was on the floor in the living room. She could grab that and be gone within seconds. Instead, she paused, turned, crossed back to the bed.

John complained endlessly about how creepy it was, but still, Sarah sat down at the edge of the mattress. Lingering was another risk, and very unlike her. As much as other men had used her over the years, she'd used them too. And sometimes it hadn't only been about acquiring weapons or training or any of the other practicalities. Sometimes she'd simply reached the end of her rope and needed some form of release. She'd always felt dirty afterward, like she'd betrayed Kyle. She didn't feel like that now. Yes, she'd been close to breaking tonight. Correction, she had broken. But so had Olivia. Sarah didn't know why that made things feel different, but it did. And it felt wrong to leave Olivia the same way she'd left the others.

The blonde was tangled in the blankets, one leg partially exposed. Sarah fought the urge to run her fingers over that tantalizing skin again. Or her tongue for that matter. She'd found out earlier that Olivia Dunham tasted very good. For long moments, Sarah thought of what it would be like to climb back into bed with this stranger who felt and tasted so good, who she felt the inexplicable connection with. It would be nice to keep pretending that she worked with computers in a normal capacity, that Olivia had a job in some lab. It would be nice to close her eyes again and pretend for a little while longer that the world outside this room wasn't going to end in a few years.

But Sarah couldn't afford that luxury. She'd had a few hours with Kyle, who she'd loved liked no one else. And she'd had a few hours with Olivia, who maybe could've been something to her if things were different. Maybe in another life. Another world.

Careful not to wake the other woman, Sarah tucked the blanket more snugly over Olivia, contemplating her options. Staying wasn't one of them, but this woman had let Sarah into her space. Into her bed. More than that, she'd let her in emotionally. And Sarah, hardly an expert in these matters, knew enough to realize that she'd joined a small and privileged group, if only for a few hours.

Sarah brushed her hand one more time against Olivia's thigh, now protected by the comforter. Then she left the bed a second time, working quickly in the bedroom before heading into the kitchen. She did what was needed in there, too. Briefly she worried about fingerprints before mentally shaking her head. They'd fucked multiple times, and she was suddenly concerned about fingerprints. Sarah returned to the bedroom long enough to complete her task, sparing one more look at the sleeping Olivia. Then she turned on her heel, grabbing her jacket from the living room floor. Olivia's purse was nearby, and Sarah hated herself for wanting to go through it, to find out who this woman who didn't like Tolstoy and didn't work in a lab and didn't get enough sleep really was.

The thought was gone as quickly as it came. Rifling through Olivia's things would be a poor way of repaying her for giving Sarah one more night of sanity. Hoping the blonde wouldn't hate her in the morning, Sarah traded the safety of a near-stranger's apartment for the pain and danger and uncertainty that was her life.

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Olivia woke in the usual manner, alone, to the sound of a phone buzzing in her ear. The place where Sarah had been was cool to the touch, and the blonde tried focusing on the relief without acknowledging the sadness. One night stands weren't her thing, but the morning after… It was good of Sarah to save her from that. Besides, she could only forget her life for one night, couldn't expect it to go on. The wakeup call was proof of that.

Rolling over, Olivia grabbed for the phone on the nightstand without answering immediately. Her eyes were locked on the chair next to her bed, and when she did talk to Broyles, it was harder than usual to stay in professional mode. "Dunham. Yes sir. Have you spoken to Walter and Peter? Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Saying goodbye to her boss, Olivia set the phone aside and got up, ignoring the morning chill on her bare flesh. The bags of clothing she'd knocked aside last night were set neatly on the chair. Olivia checked through one of them. Sarah hadn't simply thrown the clothing back in, obviously there'd been care in the act. The second bag contained a note, written on paper from a pad in her kitchen.

Olivia,

Sorry about this. Wish I could be here when you wake up, but the computers beckon. Be careful on your way to that lab, think we've both had more than enough car accidents.

Sarah

Hardly the most romantic goodbye in the world, but Olivia sensed she'd received more than some people would've. She read and reread the note several times, clutching at it and wondering how she'd manage to look at Peter again today.

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Several weeks after their stop in Boston, Sarah entered the kitchen of their current safehouse in desperate need of coffee. What she found was John sitting at the table, glued to his laptop. He wore yesterday's clothes and when he spared her a glance, Sarah noticed that his eyes were slightly bloodshot. "You didn't sleep?" she asked, coming to stand behind him.

"No," he replied shortly, attention back on the screen while his fingers blurred over the keyboard. "N.S, W.B, M.D."

Sarah fought an urge to throw up her hands. "You been spending too much time using Internet-speak with your MIT friends, forget how to talk with words?"

John threw her an annoyed look. Annoyed, and something else that made his mother look closer at the screen. "The smeared part of the wall, the part we could never read. I think it was initials."

Certain entries on the list at the old place had been more cryptic than others. Then there were the ones that were close to illegible. Frustrating, but since the man providing the information had been bleeding to death at the time, Sarah could hardly complain. "First, what makes you think this, and second, initials standing for what?"

"I've spent hours staring at a picture of that list. I might be wrong; you know how hard those letters were to make out."

"But you don't think you're wrong."

Sarah stared at the computer. John had at least ten different windows open, many of them containing a code that was Greek to her She wondered at his ability to take it all in without having a seizure. The only thing recognizable to her was the picture he mentioned, the one he took before they scrubbed the wall clean. He'd enhanced the relevant section, and with a good amount of squinting, Sarah could see what he had. Still, that did little to enlighten her on his thought process, or the reason he'd been up all night.

Apparently sensing her frustration, John rushed to explain. "M.D. Massive Dynamic. They're-"

"I know," Sarah interrupted. Even she was aware of the company that seemed to have their hand in everything. She'd hoped that since they didn't specialize in computer systems, they'd be less of a threat than the companies that did. Bur the way John kept darting his eyes at her was rapidly dashing those hopes. "The other letters?"

"N.S. Nina Sharp. Chief Operating Officer for Massive Dynamic." He paused there. He'd stopped typing, but his fingers weren't completely still. "Mom-"

"Spit it out, John."

Sighing, John pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose before clicking through some of the files he'd pulled up. "I've actually been working on this for awhile, but Massive Dynamic's system is…its layers upon layers of firewalls and encrypted data and-"

"But you got in."

"Finally, yes."

"You could've told me what you were trying to do."

"So you could demand daily updates about me getting thrown out again? I didn't want to come to you unless I had something."

"Which you obviously do now. So show me."

"Mom, I need you to try not to freak out."

"Freak out," Sarah repeated.

"Decide that you need to run off and blow them up. Freak out."

Honestly. She hadn't done that in years. "The more you stall, the more I want to run off and blow them up."

"I'm serious, Mom. You can't…" He trailed off, eyes darkening. "Cameron's not here to get you out if something happens."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Sarah replied. As usual, John either missed or ignored the bitter sadness that laced her voice, the tone so similar to his. "Now show me."

Shooting her a nervous look. John hit another key. And then Sarah stopped breathing. She was looking at a high resolution photo of a robotic arm. Suddenly she could feel the machine from 1984 grabbing at her ankle again and she barely kept herself from smashing John's computer. Destroying it like she'd destroyed that first terminator. Then there was the second time, the hand thrown into liquid fire. The other hand, taken from Silberman's cabin.

"We burned it," she stated, caught between dread, rage and disbelief.

"I know that. Mom-"

"We burned all of it," Sarah insisted, voice rising. "We made sure-"

"Mom! I know. I was there for most of it, remember?"

Sarah blinked repeatedly, trying to rein herself back. She'd sounded a little hysterical there. Fuck, a little crazy. John had to clear his throat for her to realize that she'd grabbed onto his shoulder, was practically crushing it. Instantly releasing her grip, Sarah made an attempt to treat the area in a less brutal way. "I'm sorry," she began.

John shrugged her off, but when he looked at her, there was compassion in his gaze. "Listen to me," he said. "We did burn it. This…it's not the same design."

"Look at it John. It's-"

"Similar, not the same. No offense Mom, but I know this stuff better than you do."

"So it's part of a different model, I don't-"

"No, you don't know, John interrupted. "I do. That's why I had to get further into Massive Dynamic's files before I told you about this." The arm photo disappeared, replaced by an image of a woman with red hair that stopped just below the shoulders. "Nina Sharp," John explained, hands flying over the keyboard again."Her medical records," he continued, scrolling rapidly through lines of text.

"You're telling me the owner of the world's biggest company is a machine."

"Chief Operating Officer, and no," he refuted, highlighting something on the screen. "Unless the hospitalization after she got shot was just a very elaborate cover-up."

Sarah didn't discount it, even as she confirmed Sharp's shooting two years earlier. Before she could get any more details, John was scrolling again.

"According to this, it's some kind of advanced prosthesis."

"According to this," Sarah repeated derisively. "And this couldn't possibly be a lie."

"Of course it could. But if it is, then someone went to a lot of trouble to protect a lie. I'm still working my way through all the security, but from what I've found so far, the arm was designed by William Bell."

"W.B."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Just wait. William Bell. Genius, scientist, founder of Massive Dynamic." Another photo, this one an older man with short hair.

"I think we need to have a talk with William Bell."

"No one's talking to William Bell. He's been dead for months. If not for the riot when we got you out of jail, it would've been the biggest news story around here, just like everywhere else in the world."

Cameron, risking her existence to help Sarah escape, bullets shredding the flesh Sarah had come to know as well as her own. She shut the images out, thought about the robotic arm. "What'd he die of?"

"That's the thing. Him being one of the most influential people in the word, you'd think there'd be more details on his death. What I do know…" John clicked another window, bringing up a file on a man who looked to be around Bell's age. Where Bell was clean-shaven in a fancy suit, the new guy had an unkempt beard and the kind of garb Sarah wished she didn't recognize. "In his will, Bell left his controlling interest in the company to an old colleague. Walter Bishop."

"W.B. Maybe."

" I dug around some other places. Bell and Bishop did a lot of classified scientific research in the 70's and 80's. Government stuff."

"Those clothes aren't government issue," Sarah replied. "Where'd they put him?"

John fidgeted in his chair. "St. Claire's. It's a mental hospital in Massachusetts. Bishop had a lab at Harvard, he was doing things that weren't exactly sanctioned. His assistant died in a fire and they put him in there for seventeen years, said he wasn't competent to stand trial. That part's public knowledge. "

"Is it also public knowledge that William Bell left his company in the hands of a mad scientist?"

"Yeah, actually, for anyone who cares enough to look. What's not is the stuff I got from hacking into the hospital's records. Seventeen years he was there. He had a wife and a son. Neither of them visited. Not once."

Sarah saw something in John's eyes, something that looked like guilt. She squeezed the shoulder again, gently, and he didn't pull away this time. "Go on."

John offered her a slight smile before turning his attention back to the screen. "Here's where things get more interesting. The son, Peter Bishop. He shows up after all that time, checks his father out, under orders from the FBI. They needed his help on some case, I don't have the details."

"When was this?" Sarah asked, trying not to cringe at the mention of James Ellison's former employers.

"Three years ago. And the agent that was with Peter Bishop? She's all over Massive Dynamic's visitor logs."

"She all over the cameras, too?"

"Hang on," John replied, back to typing in commands. "She works for some weird division I've never heard of. It's mentioned in Massive Dynamic's files-"

"-but you're still working through the security," Sarah finished.

"Yeah."

"But you got through enough security to get a name."

"And a face," John confirmed, pulling up an image from a lobby security cam. A name appeared right above the picture of the tall blonde. So did her title.

Special Agent Olivia Dunham.

Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"Mom? Mom, what's the matter?"

John's voice seemed to come from far away. She clutched at his shoulder again without realizing. She'd clung to Olivia much more intimately the previous month.

"Mom. Hey. You all right?"

John sounded worried now. He must've looked it too, but Sarah couldn't tear her eyes from the laptop long enough to confirm that. She couldn't reassure him either, because she'd stopped breathing again.

Special Agent Olivia Dunham.

Federal Bureau of Investigation.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Olivia frowned at the manila envelope in her hands. It hadn't been in the box with the rest of her mail. She'd come home late from an endless night buried in paperwork related to her last case to find it slipped under her door. No return address, nothing at all to indicate what it was or who'd left it.

Curiosity and trepidation mixed as Olivia tore open the envelope. There were several documents inside, but the one on top kept Olivia riveted. It was a page from the file of a mental patient, from a hospital she'd never heard of out in California.

Involuntary commitment after being found incompetent to stand trial. Long history of terrorist activities, fueled by a long history of delusions about robots and the end of the world.

Olivia stared at the picture of Sarah Connor. In her mind, she went back to the bar, back to the woman who smirked as she sat in Olivia's seat and pushed a drink in her direction. Back to the woman who'd kissed the tear from her cheek.

Olivia compared the two. The Sarah who'd looked up at her with open ecstasy as she came.

Sarah Connor. The criminal glaring up at her from the picture.

Olivia's world had been tilted on its axis more times than she cared to think about. As she tried to comprehend what was in front of her, tried to meld the Sarah she'd shared a bed with to the Sarah in the photo, Olivia felt her world turning over again.

Fin

Tbc…?


End file.
